THE BILLIONAIRE'S LOVER

7 | IN WHICH SHE'S DISAPPOINTED

'I will be back for you at eight thirty. Mr. Pitts hates people to be late.'

'Don't worry, Henry, you won't have to hang around waiting for me. I'll be ready.'

Malora closed the door, found her mobile, hit home, and waited for her sister's soft voice to answer. 'Hi, Rena, ' she said brightly.

'Where are you?'

'I'm at Titan's apartment.'

'When are you coming home?'

Malora swallowed. This would be the first time she would not return to her own bed. She knew it would be difficult for her sister. 'Not tonight, Rena. I won't be home tonight, but I'll be there first thing in the morning.'

First she went silent. Then she expelled a soft sigh. 'All right, Mal. I will see you tomorrow. Be safe.'

'See you tomorrow, Rena. Give Louis a kiss for me.'

Malora walked down the enameled corridor and went into the main bedroom. It was very large with a huge bed. The décor was all dark and silver. She kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot on the luxurious carpet towards the bathroom. The bathroom was a green marble and gold fittings affair. There was a Jacuzzi bath and a large shower cubicle. By the washbasin, lush toiletries still in their packages, had been laid out for her use. Malora unwrapped a pale green oval of soap and washed her hands.

Afterwards, she opened cabinets and found them all empty. Malora went back into the bedroom and walked through to the chestnut dressing rooms. The built-in wardrobes were all as bare as the bathroom cabinets.

So Titan didn't live here.

This place was merely for sexcapades.  The thought of several women walking into this place, marvelling at its decor for the very same reason she was here, left a bitter in her mouth. Shaking her head to rid herself of her thoughts, Malora walk out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen.

It was done up in deep blue with glossy black granite worktops and surfaces. There was an island in the middle and stools around it. When she was young Malora dreamed of such a kitchen. She perched on one of the tall stools, swiveled around a few times, and hopped off. Malora ventured to a cupboard and open it. As Blake said, it was filled with stuff—expensive stuff that was never found in their poor cupboards. Tin's of biscuits from Fortnum and Masons, Jellies from Harrods, French chocolates with fancy names. Malora took a few down and admired the exquisite packaging.

Then she shut the cupboard and turned toward the fridge. More exotic stuff: truffles, hand-made blue cheeses, gooseberries, cuts of dried meats, wild smoked salmon, a dressed lobster, finger foods, caviar. . . The vegetable drawer was packed with organic produce. Even the eggs had blue shells. There were several bottles of champagne lying on their sides. Malora took one. It had a dark green glass, foil that seemed to hover somewhere between gold and silver, and an austere label reading CHAMPAGNE KRUG CLOS DU MESNIL 1988.

'Hmnn. . .' Malora said into the silence.

Carefully, she peeled back the foil and the wire that held down the cork. Holding the bottle between her thighs she twisted the cork as she had seen a waiter do, but it took many tries, and when it finally popped out, she had shaken the bottle so much, it sprayed everywhere.

Malora cleaned up with some paper napkins, and finding a glass in one of the cabinets poured herself a drink. Carrying the glass she went back into the living room, slid back the doors, and stepped outside. She stood there for a long while looking at the wonderful view of the park and surrounding area, but she could feel no joy in her heart. Her thoughts were with Rena and baby Louis. Eventually Malora closed her eyes and prayed that all will be well.